Identical,
they were.
Straw
hair and butterfly eyes,
And
little crimson love-hearts pressed tightly
Together,
hinting at equal smiles.
I
prefer symmetry.
A
purple bruise on the left eye of one,
A
similar lump to the right eye of the other.
The
love-hearts become bloodstains,
As
smiles give way to grimaces.
Blotted
patches of ugly red.
Too
identical.
A
cut from left cheek to lip
Creates
ones’ twisted half-smile,
A
permanent, joyless smirk.
Then
my metal edge returns,
To
the right cheek of the other.
Cuts
deep, drags down.
Symmetry.
But
is it enough?
I
lie them down, side by side,
Pressed
together.
Left
arm of one down,
Right
arm of the other,
Attached
by needle and thread.
The
arms on the outside
(Right
for Left Girl, and vice versa)
Stretched
out adjacent at equal angles,
Nailed
to the wood they (she) lie(s) upon.
Like
bloody butterfly wings.
I
smile at my creation,
Art
inspired by nature.
My
adorable, beautiful,
Symmetrical
Butterfly
Girl.
Copyright Cory Eadson, 2012
